Eliana’s pulse jumped as she fumbled with the long silver key and let herself inside.
“Navi?” she whispered, once she had pulled the door shut. “Don’t be afraid.”
The air in Navi’s cell was stale and squalid—waste and sweat and something acrid and medicinal that made Eliana’s tongue tingle. She saw a small pile against the far wall, rushed over, hesitated, then took Navi gently by the shoulders and turned her over.
Hovering beside her, Zahra made a soft noise of pity.
“Oh, Navi,” Eliana breathed, unable to hide her shock.
Navi’s head had been shaved, and her skin was a mosaic of pain—ugly dark bruises, angry red wounds, thin black markings with numbered figures beside them, as if Navi had been labeled with instructions for some malevolent seamstress. At Eliana’s touch, Navi moaned, her swollen face crumpling with pain.
Eliana whispered, “What have they done to her?”
“Their work is abominable,” Zahra said, her voice low and furious. “I have tried to stop them when I can, but without giving away my presence to Semyaza, there is only so much I can do.”
Questions gathered angrily on Eliana’s tongue, but she would ask them later. She heaved Navi’s body off the ground and slung the girl’s limp arm around her shoulders. “Show me the way out of here.”
“I cannot hide you again,” Zahra whispered, wringing her smoky hands together. “I used the last strength I had on that soldier in the corridor.”
Navi mumbled something pained against Eliana’s shoulder.
“How long until your strength returns?” Eliana asked.
Zahra looked away, as if ashamed. “I cannot say. My queen, I swear to you, I wasn’t always so weak.”
“We’ll just have to escape like normal people. Let’s go.”
They left Navi’s cell and hurried down a maze of corridors, the strange galvanized lights humming overhead. Zahra drifted ahead, then hurried back in time to warn Eliana of approaching Fidelia soldiers.
Eliana crouched with Navi in the shadows of a small alcove, her hand gently over Navi’s mouth. The soldiers passed, carrying a dead-eyed woman on a canvas stretcher. Bulbous dark growths marred her body.
Eliana’s stomach turned.
“It’s clear,” Zahra whispered and led the way once more.
Gritting her teeth against the persistent nausea of Zahra’s nearness, Eliana followed. When they exited the compound into a flat dirt yard bordered by tall stone walls, they took cover behind crates piled high with stinking wrapped heaps that she suspected were bodies. Night stretched vast above the compound, with faint blue at the horizon.
“Are we on a mountain?” Eliana whispered.
“Yes,” answered Zahra, “and not far from the northern border of Ventera.”
That explained the cold and the wind. “How far from Rinthos?”
“Four days’ ride.”
Eliana whipped her head around to stare at the wraith. “Four days? How long have we been here?”
“A week.”
Eliana closed her eyes, fighting back a swell of panic. Eleven days since their capture. Eleven days away from Remy, and no idea of where he might now be.
Navi moaned quietly, her head lolling against Eliana’s shoulder. “Eliana?”
“We’re going to have to run soon,” Eliana said quietly. “Can you wake up for me, Navi?”
Zahra uttered a hissed curse.
Eliana tensed. “What is it?”
“Semyaza is here.” Zahra jerked her head at the perimeter wall. “He was supposed to be out on tonight’s hunt. He must have realized you were gone or sensed my own presence.”
Eliana squinted across the yard, seeing nothing—but then, a disturbance rippled in the air. There was a shift, a flicker of a dark shape. A man, but taller and longer-limbed than a human.
Fear dried out her mouth. “What do we do?”
“I’ll take care of Semyaza,” Zahra said, her voice hard—and, Eliana thought, rather delighted. “You’ll hear a loud crash when I hit him and see a slant in the air. Run for the gate on the eastern wall. Run until you can’t anymore, then hide in the forest. I’ll find you, if Semyaza doesn’t trap me first.”
“Trap you?”
“I’ll explain later.”
“But the guards.” Eliana gestured at the Fidelia guards patrolling the yard. “I can’t fight off all of them, especially not with Navi.”
“What we need,” Zahra mused, “is a diversion.”
The western wall exploded.
Eliana ducked low over Navi as stone and wood went flying across the yard, then peered through the clouds of dust to see that a thirty-foot section of the wall was now gone.
Zahra stretched to her full height. “Well,” she said cheerfully, “that will work.”
Then she zipped out into the chaos and disappeared.
Eliana waited, wiping sweat from her forehead.
A low boom rattled the yard, as of two winds colliding. Fifty yards away and ten feet above the ground, a patch of light shifted and warped, swirling like a whirlpool’s mouth.
Zahra had found Semyaza.
Eliana hefted Navi back to her feet and slapped her across the face. Her drug-clouded eyes snapped open, and Eliana was pleased to see a spark of anger inside them.
“We have to run, now,” Eliana told her, “or we’ll die.”
Navi nodded, set her jaw.
“Hold on to me.” Eliana turned, Navi’s arm once more slung around her shoulders, and ran into the yard. Beside her, Navi’s breathing came labored and thin. In the bedlam of dust and shouting soldiers, no one saw them—until they had almost reached the abandoned eastern gate.
A Fidelia soldier jumped down from the gate’s watchtower, a crude revolver in hand and a belt of ammunition strapped to his torso.
Eliana skidded to a halt.
The Fidelia soldier smiled kindly.
“There, now, lambs,” he said, gesturing with his gun, “you’ve gotten turned around in all this ruckus.”
Eliana watched him approach, saw him glance at the knives she had strapped to her body. His gaze hardened; his smile remained.
“Poor lambs.” His gun still pointed at Eliana’s chest, he brushed a lock of matted hair out of her eyes and clucked his tongue. “So lost, so young.”
A shift in the darkness behind him was Eliana’s cue. She lowered her eyes to the ground, nodded forlornly.
“We didn’t mean to do wrong,” she whispered—and then heard the familiar sound of Arabeth finding a home in someone’s heart.
She looked up as the Fidelia soldier grunted, gaped down at Arabeth’s jagged blade protruding from his chest, coughed up a pool of dark blood.
Behind him stood the Wolf, mask in place.
Eliana’s exhausted body nearly buckled with relief. Despite everything, she said, “Thank you.”
Simon wiped Arabeth clean on his cloak and handed it to her. “I’ll trade you.”
Eliana complied, shifting Navi into Simon’s arms. They hurried together out of the yard and into the night, down a rocky slope cluttered with flat pale stones that crumbled underfoot.
“Remy?” she asked.
“Safe and hidden.” Simon’s mask glinted, moon-colored. “We’re going to him now.”
And when we get there, Eliana thought, tightening her grip on Arabeth as she ran, we will speak alone, with my blade at your throat.
41
Rielle
“No one can be sure of Audric the Lightbringer’s last words, but in the days before the Fall, whispers traveled fast across the world. His last words, the whispers said, were for his murderer: ‘I love you, Rielle.’”
—The Last Days of the Golden King author unknown
Three days. Rielle dragged herself up to her rooms long after the sun had set. Three days until the fire trial.
And then…what?
“My lady,” chided Evyline from the door, “you really must try to get more sleep, at least until the trials are over.”
“You’re right, Evyline,” Rielle replied. “It’s only that when you’re soon to be thrown into a death pit of flames, you find yourself wanting to study your prayers as much as you can.”
“Prayers are well and good, my lady, but sleep is better. You can neither pray nor fight fire if you’re exhausted.”
Rielle, yawning, untied her braid and shook her hair free. “I’m inclined to agree. My father, however, is not.”